Not Heaven
by Noki-chan
Summary: Deidara visits Sasori's grave, then has a nasty shock when he dies. R&R.


Deidara stood still, looking at the stone without seeing. He was lost in thought.

_He crouched hidden, smirking as he heard what the pink-haired brat and the old lady said. He feels no remorse, no regret for losing his partner in crime. There are only words sharper than a blade, jabbed into Sasori no Akasuna's memory like a knife into a balloon. Deidara doesn't realize it, but he's in denial, not really believing that Danna is gone._

But now the dream is over; he sees it for himself. On the great boulder, smoothed out by time and nature, is an inscription of a Village Hidden in the Sand symbol. It has a long, jagged gash through it, stark and undeniable. Then, just beneath it, there is a red sticker with a black scorpion on it.

Deidara reaches out one trembling hand and touches Sasori's tag, feeling the smooth material. Then, without quite knowing what he was doing, he begins to trace Sasori's name on the rock with his fingertips. When he lifts his hand away, there is no mark. But Deidara can still feel the pain in his chest, as if someone had taken a kunai and cut the name into his heart.

Then the full force of what he's doing hits him.

Deidara crumples to the ground, hiding his face behind his hands so that Danna won't see him cry. But it doesn't help; the tears leak out between his fingers. He clenches his teeth together and shut his eyes tightly. Still lamenting, he blindly feels the slash marring the Suna icon. He remembers it well; he added it himself.

It's all he has left of the best friend he ever had. It's all that remains of the only person Deidara ever connected to, the only other artist he ever met. And Sasori had always rejected his art, called them pathetic little fireworks. Deidara had never shown his danna anything but respect, but Sasori ignored him. Like an orphaned child craving a parent's love, all Deidara ever wanted was a little recognition, a little acknowledgement for what he had done. But no, he'd always been just below the radar, no matter how hard he tried.

He tried to open up to Sasori, but was rewarded with a cold look and a turned back.

He tried to be a friend, a companion, but was only thought of as a nuisance.

It hurt more than anything when Sasori had called him a brat. Everyone picked on him, yes, but it simply caused Deidara pain like he'd never known when Danna told him he was an idiot, an annoyance, a pain in the neck. The boy had tried time and time again to casually chat with Sasori about life, and the puppet had rejected him.

Rejected him like everyone else rejected him.

But despite the fact that Sasori had never once given Deidara a compliment, never once showed him any gratitude for the times Deidara had gotten him out of a pinch, he couldn't be mad. He knew, deep inside, that Sasori hadn't poured out his heart because he was scared of what would happen, what would happen if the person he'd shown emotion to died. And now Deidara was paying the price, feeling the pain for being a friend.

Deidara rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, washing away the salty track of shed tears. He bites his lip, deliberating, and then makes one final gesture to his comrade. Reaching deep into his bag of clay, he rubs his fingertips in the plain white stuff instead of letting his hand devour it. Then, he slowly writes the kanji for 'heart' on the cool stone with one finger.

Then Deidara scrambles back onto the clay eagle that brought him here, and he soars off. The only consolation to his aching heart is that when he dies, he'll be burning in hell with Sasori. He grins a bit at the idea, despite himself. Oh yes, they'll have a grand old time, waiting for the end of eternity in the underworld. Lovely.

--

There is nothing,

nothing to feel.

There is no knowing,

no being.

Then, slowly, consciousness spreads through his suspended form.

He is not in pain anymore.

He is whole and unblemished, the ugly mouth once upon his chest gone as cleanly as if it had been erased off a drawing.

And he is utterly, devastatingly alone.

_Danna...? Where am I?_

A booming voice breaks into his consciousness, answering questions left unsaid.

'You are in heaven.'

And as the voice speaks the word 'heaven,' he finds himself wearing all white. He is standing alone upon a grassy plain. The wind tenderly caresses his face, and the world is beautiful.

_But...why am I in heaven? I've done everything that Sasori's done; I deserve to be counted among the damned!_

'It is not a matter of what you have done, but of what he has not done.'

_God, you're making less sense than Hidan on crack._

'You knew a feeling, one that you call 'love.''

_What? But...I've never...wait...Danna? No! I didn't – I'm not – no! How can you justify something like that?_

'There is no refusing the truth, my child. When you poured out your heart to him, you felt something else. The only way to describe it is that it is the inexplicable feeling you sense when you are around him.'

_But...he was heartless, unfeeling! How could anyone feel anything but disgust at what he did, how he stole his own humanity to become immortal? How can you say I don't deserve to go to hell?_

'I am love, and love is divine. Those who have truly felt it in their hearts cannot be damned.'

Deidara falls silent then, and there is no sound but the breeze whistling in his ears. His talk with God is over, and now there is nothing but him and the meadow that stretches on forever. It is still just as beautiful, but it is an empty beauty; it holds no meaning, no wonder in his eyes. If there was someone, anyone, to be here, the world would not be hollow. He knows the meaning of everything now that he has passed on, but he can never return to the earth he loved. On his back, with flowers surrounding him like tiny angels, watching him in a silent, colorful vigil, Deidara remembers his danna again. And the last thought he has before slipping away to a numbing, painless, eternal sleep is that no matter what they say, this is not heaven without Sasori.

* * *

**God. I have GOT to stop watching those AMVs. They're invading my brain and forcing me to write this angsty crap. **

**Mrr. Well, I guess this one puts a bit of an interesting spin on Sasori and Deidara's relationship. Even so, the next one is seriously going to be about the rest of the Akatsuki. R&R!**


End file.
